EVEN PSYCHIATRISTS GET THE BLUES
by miknnik
Summary: Still set in the first year of the Frasier show: Frasier is in funk.
1. Chapter 1

**Venus Envy**

_Frasier's condo. Marty is on his exercise mat. Daphne is bending and stretching his leg. Frasier is on the couch reading. Eddie is asleep in Marty's chair._

MARTY: (wincing with pain) Jesus, Daph! That really hurts!

DAPHNE: (unsympathetically) I'm sure it does. I hate to repeat me-self, but this would be so much easier for you and me if you spent more time exercising and less on your bum watching telly.

_As Marty's exercise wraps up, Frasier's mobile phone rings. _

FRASIER: (picking up his phone) Hello? Oh, hi, Niles. (listening to Niles on the other end) Yes, of course you may come over. (a beat) Sure, anytime. (a beat) You're welcome.

_Frasier hangs up his phone, stands up and walks to the front door. When he opens the door, Niles is at the door with his hand raised to knock on the door._

FRAISER: (teasingly) That was quick, Niles.

NILES: (sheepishly) As I said, I was in the neighborhood.

_As Frasier ushers Niles in and the brothers exchange pleasantries and admire the bottle of champagne Niles produces at the counter, Daphne and Marty converse. _

DAPHNE: How does he do that?

MARTY: Huh?

DAPHNE: Dr. Crane knew his brother called right outside and opened the door before the other Dr. Crane knocked.

MARTY: I guess some siblings can communicate without saying a word. You grew up with a bunch of brothers, so you know how these things work, don't you?

DAPHNE: I do have many brothers, but their way of communication is tackling and beating up each other.

MARTY: They fight a lot?

DAPHNE: That's how they make up after a fight.

MARTY: Are they into sports?

DAPHNE: Mostly as spectators. They're too lazy to participate in organized sports. And they prefer going to their pub to practicing for a game of any sport. Me brothers don't have refined taste like your sons—they just guzzle ales and lagers and watch and yell at rugby and football players on telly instead of sipping champagne at an art gallery.

MARTY: (defensively) Hey, you speak as if it was a bad thing.

DAPHNE: (teasingly) I always thought there was something familiar about you, Mr. Crane.

_Frasier and Niles emerge from the kitchen carrying glasses of champagne in both hands; Frasier gives one to Marty, Niles hands one to Daphne. Marty shoos Eddie off his recliner and sits down._

FRASIER: Niles brought us a treat everybody can appreciate. Even you might enjoy this, Dad. It's Dom Perignon.

MARTY: Good stuff, huh?

FRASIER: That, and very expensive.

_Sitting on the couch, Niles takes out a carrying case for a small teaspoon from his pocket, takes out the spoon and taps his champagne glass a few times with it._

NILES: Everyone! I have an announcement to make. (seeing that he got everyone's attention) I…

_Niles notices a spot or two on the spoon. He takes out a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and starts polishing the spoon fussily._

FRASIER: (sharply) Niles!

NILES: (looking up) Hmm?

FRASIER: (pointedly) Your announcement?

NILES: Oh, oh, oh! Yes, my announcement! I hope you'll be as thrilled as I am when you hear the news. Dad, Frasier, Daphne, (a beat) I am now on the Symphony Board!

MARTY: (raising his glass) Hey, way to go, Niles!

DAPHNE: Congratulations, Dr. Crane.

FRASIER: So, who resigned or died?

NILES: (putting the teaspoon back in the case and the handkerchief in the pocket) Well, actually, my appointment is not official yet, but Richard McMillan was asked by his company to relocate in Hong Kong for a few years to run a small outfit the corporation is taking over.

MARTY: And the board picked you to replace this Richard guy?

NILES: No. Not exactly.

FRASIER: Then how did you manage to become a board member?

NILES: The board selected, of all people, Jeffrey Goldstein as Richard's replacement, but he was forced to decline the offer after an anonymous letter sent to the board revealed a skeleton in his closet.

FRASIER: (probingly) You don't have anything to do with this anonymous letter, do you, Niles?

NILES: (deadpan) Absolutely not.

_Niles snuffles and places his index finger under his nose._

DAPHNE: (gasps) Oh, dear! Have you got a nosebleed, Dr. Crane?

_Frasier looks at Niles accusingly with an arched eyebrow._

NILES: (dabbing his nose with a handkerchief) All right, all right! I did send an anonymous letter, but the board largely ignored it.

FRASIER: That's hard to believe, Niles. You just told us the board rescinded its decision based on the information in the letter.

NILES: But it's true—the only dirt on Jeffrey I could dig up was a couple of unpaid parking tickets. I didn't know anything about his affair with the concertmaster until someone else sent another letter anonymously.

MARTY: (shaking his head) Ya know, I really don't see why you're so eager to be a board member of anything. Besides rubbing elbows with the hoity-toity, backstabbing crowd, what's so great about being on the board?

NILES: Are you kidding? The board influences the selection of the symphony musicians as well as the conductors and the guest performers. Together, we mold and reshape the symphony's artistic trend and its future!

FRASIER: (to Marty) It's a power trip, Dad.

DAPHNE: (to Niles) It must be a thirsty business, becoming one of the movers and shakers. Your glass is empty, Dr. Crane. Would you like another glass of bubbly?

NILES: (gushing) You are always so considerate and observant, Daphne. Yes, I'd like another glass, please.

_Daphne receives Niles' champagne glass and is about to head for the kitchen when Frasier speaks up._

FRASIER: Oh, Daphne. Since you're going to the kitchen, do you mind fixing us some hors d'oeuvres? Something simple like cheese and fruit would be fine.

_Resenting to be treated like a housekeeper, Daphne gives Frasier the evil eye._

DAPHNE: (crossly) No, of course I don't mind.

_Daphne goes to the kitchen._

NILES: One of the perks of becoming a board member is that you get a sneak peek at who may be coming to perform with the Symphony. When I spoke with Samantha Deaver, she mentioned some names, which might pique your interest, Frasier. For instance, (reading some names off a piece of paper, which he takes out of his breast pocket) Itzhak Perleman…

FRASIER: (cutting in) Big gun, big expenses.

NILES: …Martha Argerich…

FRASIER: (cutting in again, wincing) Oooh, Queen of Cancellation. Good luck.

NILES: …Peter Schickele…

FRASIER: (cutting in yet again) I hope the entire concert will not be centered on that P.D.Q. Bach material of his.

NILES: (getting a little annoyed) …Joshua Bell…

_Niles, anticipating Frasier to butt in, pauses. Frasier starts to say something but closes his mouth to think for a moment._

FRASIER: You know, I'd love to see him perform. I still remember his Carnegie debut. He was a teenage boy back then, but his music sounded so mature.

NILES: (encouraged by Frasier's first positive comment) Yes! As our Yoshi might say, "_Sendan wa futaba yori kanbashi_."

MARTY: (frowning) Send-what?

FRASIER: It's Japanese, Dad.

MARTY: (sarcastically) Gee, thanks. I never woulda guessed.

NILES: It means that sandalwood is fragrant even as a seedling.

MARTY: (flustered) Would it kill you to speak in plain English every once in a while?

FRASIER: It's the Japanese way of saying that a tremendously talented person exhibits signs of his genius at a very young age.

NILES: Yes indeed! Joshua Bell certainly is an accomplished violinist although he's still very much a young man after all these years.

_Daphne comes back from the kitchen with a tray laden with a glass of champagne, assorted cold cuts, fruit. She perks up when she hears the name of Joshua Bell._

DAPHNE: (putting down the tray on the coffee table) (excitedly) Did you say Joshua Bell? Are you and your friends on the board inviting him to Seattle?

NILES: At this point, we are just making inquiries to see if he and other musicians will be available for our next season and beyond. I didn't know you like classical music, Daphne.

DAPHNE: Well, I don't particularly.

NILES: But you listen to Joshua Bell?

DAPHNE: No, not really.

_Daphne sees a quizzical look on Niles' face and elaborates while rolling up the exercise mat._

DAPHNE: (dreamily) Several months ago, I was in a music store looking for some new CDs. When I looked up, there it was—a poster of Joshua Bell on the wall. He, in a black shirt, playing his fiddle, strands of hair clinging onto his sweaty brow. He looked pensive and in rapture at the same time, just lost in his music…

NILES: (curious to hear the rest of the story) And?

DAPHNE: He looked so beautiful and enchanting I had to buy his CD though I had no idea what sort of music he played.

NILES: But you said you don't listen to his music.

DAPHNE: Well, I intend to, but every time I pick up the CD to open the cellophane wrapper, I get lost in his photo on the cover…

_Daphne sighs and cradles the rolled-up exercising mat lovingly in her arms as if it were someone dear and takes it to her own room as Frasier and Marty watch her leave with their mouths agape. Niles is seen crossing out a certain name on the list of prospective guest performers furiously and emphatically._

FRASIER: Well, Niles. You may not be officially on the board, but this is definitely a cause for celebration. I've heard a lot of good reviews on that new Thai-Indian-Greek fusion restaurant on Mercer. How about dining there tonight, all of us?

NILES: Hmm, that's tempting, but I have another engagement, sorry to say. Samantha invited me for a drink with her and a few other board directors at her place. Maybe some other time.

FRASIER: (disappointed) Oh, all right. (to Marty) How about you, Dad? I'll make a reservation if you're game.

MARTY: Sorry, son. I'm meeting with the boys at Duke's this evening around… (looking at his wrist watch) Oh, I gotta get going now.

_Marty stands up and grabs his jacket._

NILES: Wait, Dad. I must be going too. (to Frasier) Good night, Frasier.

MARTY: Night, Fras.

_Marty and Niles depart together leaving Frasier alone in the living room. Daphne returns to the living room carrying a purse._

FRASIER: Daphne, are you leaving too?

DAPHNE: Yes, Dr. Crane. I told you I'm going to have dinner with my friends tonight.

FRASIER: Oh, yes, of course. Well, have a wonderful time.

DAPHNE: Thank you, Dr. Crane. Good-bye.

_Daphne leaves. Frasier sits down on the couch where Eddie lies._

FRASIER: (patting Eddie) Well, it's just you and me tonight, Eddie. What shall I cook for supper? I'll have something simple like Dover Sole Meuniere with crisp white wine. As for you, how about kibbles with diced turkey breast and gravy topping? What do you say, little buddy?

_Eddie jumps off the couch and trots to Marty's bedroom leaving Frasier all by himself._


	2. Chapter 2

**I Know Why The Caged Man Snores**

_Interior of Café Nervosa. Frasier is seated at a small table having coffee before his shift starts. Roz comes over with a cup of coffee._

ROZ: Hey, Frasier.

FRASIER: (listlessly) Hi, Roz.

ROZ: (sitting across the table) You okay, Frasier? I sound kinda down this morning.

FRASIER: (sighing) Oh, I'm fine. It's just that lately we don't receive as many calls as we used to, and the calls we get are usually too mundane and not very challenging.

ROZ: Is that all?

FRASIER: What do you mean, 'Is that all'? Our livelihood depends on the quality of the calls, not to mention my sound and witty advice. Our program is a call-in show in case you've forgotten.

ROZ: (rolling her eyes) Frasier, look outside.

_Puzzled, Frasier looks out the window._

ROZ: Is it raining?

FRASIER: Of course not. It hasn't rained for weeks. So what?

ROZ: Hello? It's summer. People are outside enjoying the sun 'cause it's just about the only time of the year we get decent weather around here.

FRASIER: Are you saying that our call-in slump is weather-related?

ROZ: Well, duh! This is the Pacific Northwest—the rains will be back in no time, people will get depressed and start making calls all over again. You got nothing to worry about, Frasier. You can trust me on this one.

_Camera cuts to Frasier's booth at the KACL studio. Frasier is sitting in front of the microphone, slouched with his chin resting on his palm as a caller's voice drones on in excruciating monotony._

CALLER: …so, I told Molly, "Don't eat that," but she did anyway. I've tried being firm, gentle, aloof with her, but she never listens…

FRASIER: (cutting in) Dennis, I am a psychiatrist, but I treat only human patients; I don't treat felines, or any other pets for that matter.

_Roz taps on the glass that divides her and Frasier's booths and points her wristwatch to signal him to wrap up._

FRASIER: Excuse me, Dennis, but my producer just told me we're running out of time. However, I'd like to give you a piece of advice before we sign off if I may.

CALLER/DENNIS: Oh? What's that?

FRASIER: You should get out more. Talk to strangers, and I mean bipeds, not the four-legged kind. Unlike your pet, they can talk back and carry conversations. Who knows, you might like it.

DENNIS: I don't know… I'm not that good at making small talks and being sociable in general.

FRASIER: (with feigned surprise) You don't say! But will you promise me you'll give it a try?

DENNIS: Um… All right. Thanks, Dr. Crane. Good-bye.

FRASIER: Thank you for calling. (a beat) Well, that's the end of our show today. Until next time, I wish all of you good mental health.

_As soon as the 'On Air' sign turns off, Frasier yanks off his headset angrily. When he is about to leave his chair, the door of his booth bursts open, and in walks Bulldog pushing a cart with all the gadgets he uses for his show, including a small gong._

BULLDOG: Wow, Doc! That was amazing!

FRASIER: (puzzled) What's so amazing?

BULLDOG: A show like the one you just had, and not just today but five days in a row! There's a rumor that the station's nominated your show for an award.

FRASIER: (skeptically) Really?

_Roz walks into Frasier's booth._

ROZ: Stop being so gullible, Frasier. He's pulling your leg. (to Bulldog) The station's not giving out any awards.

BULLDOG: (smirking) Yeah? They ought to. The Hoover Award for a show that sucks big time!

_Bulldog laughs at his own joke and blows a noisemaker in Frasier's face._

ROZ: You're such a jerk, Bulldog!

BULLDOG: (unfazed) I may be, but my show has a higher rating and a lot more loyal followers than yours. What do you say to that, huh? (to Frasier) Do you know why I use the stuff like this (indicating the noisemaker) to make loud noises during my show?

FRASIER: No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me.

BULLDOG: Damn right! It's to wake up my fans that tuned in for my show early, caught the end of your show and fell asleep!

_This time, Bulldog honks a horn in Frasier face. As he laughs merrily, his producer in the adjacent booth bangs the glass divider to signal him to get ready for his show._

BULLDOG: (glancing at the clock on the wall) Okay, you two. Out, out, out!

_Bulldog pushes Frasier and Roz out of the booth and slams the door shut. A moment later, the door opens again, and Frasier's briefcase and jacket are thrown out of the room. Bulldog (only his arm is visible) closes the door with a big slam. Seconds later, the producer (only his arm is visible) opens the door of his booth and throws Roz's purse out. He also closes the door with a slam._

ROZ: (picking up her purse on the floor) God! They're both such creeps they deserve each other. (to Frasier) Don't let him bully you like this, or Bulldog will keep picking on you till you set your foot down.

_Frasier stands silently not bothering to pick up his personal effects._

ROZ: Frasier, anything wrong?

FRASIER: What if Bulldog's right…

ROZ: WHAT? What the hell are you talking about? Are you out of your mind, or high on something, or both?

FRASIER: As much as I hate to admit, his show is more popular than ours. And quite frankly, if our dry spell continues, I don't know which will come first—a pink slip or my insanity.

ROZ: You can't be serious! Our show's been on the air only for several months, but Bulldog's has been around for years and has a wider fan base. And any beer-guzzling idiot can rave or gripe about some athlete, but not everyone can replace you. You said so many times that our show is not about giving psychiatric help but removing the stigma of mental illness and creating a forum for open discussions on mental health.

FRASIER: It sounded convincing on the proposal, didn't it?

ROZ: What's the matter with you, Frasier? This isn't like you. (a beat) Hey, wait a minute. When's the last time you went out with a woman? I mean, when's the last time you were WITH a woman? I mean…

FRASIER: Stop! I KNOW what you mean, Roz. You don't have to draw a graphic picture, thank you! So I'm having a dry spell in that department as well, but it has no bearing on the state of my mind, I can assure you.

ROZ: Don't be so sure. After all, you're the one who always talks about Freud and his theory that sexual desires dictate our lives.

FRASIER: Freud's theory is not that simple—except in your case, perhaps.

ROZ: Hey! I'm trying to help.

FRASIER: Oh, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you are trying to help. (sighing) You know, maybe you're right (seeing Roz smile an 'I-told-you-so' smile) (quickly before Roz speaks up), but only partly. I've been under a lot of stress lately. Just this year, my divorce was finalized, I closed my private practice and moved from Boston leaving my only child with my ex-wife, and I returned to my hometown, started a new career, bought a condo, and my father and his dog moved in with me…

ROZ: (grinning) And you're not gettin' any.

FRASIER: (ignoring Roz's comment) Any one of these is considered as a stressor almost as devastating as death in the family.

ROZ: In that case, a night of passion may be the cure for what ails you.

FRASIER: I don't know… I don't think I'm ready for a new relationship at this point of my life. I mean, the dust hasn't quite settled yet since I moved back to Seattle.

ROZ: I'm not talking about a meaningful relationship—it's strictly a one-night stand, no strings attached. And… (taking out her address book from her purse) (flipping through some pages of the address book) Dr. Roz is prescribing you… (turning a few more pages) (placing her index finger on one of the names in the address book) Rachel!

FRASIER: But…

ROZ: You available tonight?

FRASIER: No, I have a wine club meeting…

ROZ: What about tomorrow night?

FRASIER: Attending a party at my brother's.

ROZ: Maybe it's easier if you tell me when you're available.

FRASIER: (thinking for a moment) Thursday should be okay… I'm not really sure about this whole thing though.

ROZ: Oh, come on. Rachel's perfect for this kind of thing. You gotta trust me on this one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Speak Softly Pazzo**

_Interior of Café Nervosa. Frasier is at the counter placing an order. A gorgeous blonde with long, shapely legs, a tiny waist and ample breasts walks in and comes over to the counter._

BLONDE: Dr. Crane?

FRASIER: (turning around) Yes? (taking in the assets of the woman in front of him) (hopefully) Oh, hello. Are you Rachel by any chance?

BLONDE: No, my name's Ashley.

FRASIER: (disappointed) Oh…

BLONDE/ASHLEY: Rachel had to cancel tonight's date at the last minute, and Roz asked me to fill in for her. Hope you don't mind.

FRASIER: (perking up again) Mind? Of course not! It must be my lucky day to be able to meet someone as lovely as you. I am eternally grateful that you squeezed me into your busy schedule. And please, call me Frasier.

ASHLEY: How'd you know I'm busy?

FRASIER: (smiling) A beautiful woman like you usually has a full social calendar. And I have a hunch that you have a starring role in every adolescent boy's dream every night.

ASHLEY: (giggling) I bet you say that to every woman you meet.

FRASIER: (with feigned innocence) No, but do you think I should?

ASHLEY: (still giggling) You're a real charmer, aren't you? Roz said you're…

_Ashley catches herself in the mid-sentence._

FRASIER: (enouncing each word slowly) Yeees? What did she say about me?

ASHLEY: (carefully choosing her words) …that you're serious and very, very smart.

FRASIER: (rolling his eyes) She called me stuffed shirt, didn't she?

ASHLEY: Wow, you really ARE smart!

_Frasier forces a humorless smile as Ashley's statement inadvertently confirms his suspicion._ _Camera cuts to the interior of an Italian restaurant. Frasier and Ashley are being escorted to their table by the maitre d'. The maitre d' placed the menus on the table and pulls out a chair to seat Ashley._

MAITRE D': (with an Italian accent) Would _signore_ and (turning to Ashley) (almost salivating) lovely _signorina_ care for something to drink before dinner?

FRASIER: (sitting down at the table) May I see the wine list please?

MAITRE D': _Si, sicuramente!_

ASHLEY: I'll have Chianti Superiore.

MAITRE D'_: Eccellente_! (to a waiter nearby) Gino! A glass of Chianti Superiore for this beautiful young lady, and the wine list for the gentleman. (mainly to Ashley) _Buon appetito!_

_Maitre d' bows and leaves Frasier's table._

FRASIER: So, how did you find this restaurant? You seem to know your way around pretty well.

ASHLEY: I came here several times with my ex.

FRASIER: (cautiously) I don't mean to pry, but when you said 'ex,' did you mean…

ASHLEY: My ex-husband. Don't worry—he walked out of my life five years ago.

FRASIER: (visibly relieved) So, you married him when you were only fifteen or sixteen?

ASHLEY: (laughing) You're really laying it on thick, Frasier. But I gotta admit, I can get used to this kind of fib.

_A man enters the restaurant. He is a caricature of a young mafia punk with slicked back hair, pinstripe suit, gaudy rings and a heavy Brooklyn accent. He looks around, spots Ashley in a far corner and yells a la Rocky._

PUNK: Aaash-leeey!!

_Startled, Ashley and Frasier, along with the other restaurant patrons, turn their heads towards the direction of the voice and see the punk approaching them._

ASHLEY: (groaning) Oh, God!

FRASIER: (anxiously) Your ex?

ASHLEY: My nothing! I met him on a blind date, and he keeps calling me though I told him I'm not interested.

_As the punk reaches Frasier and Ashley's table, the waiter brings a glass of wine, the wine list and a basket of breadsticks. The punk grabs an empty chair from another table and sits down at the table between Frasier and Ashley._

PUNK: (taking the bread basket from the waiter's tray) Great timing. I'm hungry. (to the waiter) Bring me another basket, will ya?

ASHLEY: (infuriated) EXCUSE ME? Who invited you?

PUNK: (unflappable) See, that's the problem—you won't let me talk to you face-to-face no more.

ASHLEY: That's because I got nothing to talk about with you. Now, leave! I'm on a date with this wonderful gentleman.

PUNK: (pounding the table with his fists) WHAT?

_Ashley barely blinks, but Frasier is visibly frightened and intimidated by the punk's outburst. The punk turns his head to take a good look at Frasier. Frasier leans back in his chair to keep as much space as possible between him and the punk._

PUNK: (to Ashley) What do you see in this guy? He's too old for you.

ASHLEY: He is not! I think he's very distinguished-looking. And he's a famous psychiatrist, who has his own show on the radio.

PUNK: (sneering at Frasier) Big deal—a head shrink, huh? (to Ashley) I'm tellin' ya, he's all wrong for…

_The punk pauses in the mid-sentence to think about something._

PUNK: (to Ashley) Did you say he has his own radio show?

_Ashley nods curtly._

PUNK: (to Frasier) (with eyes narrowed) Are you Frasier Crane?

FRASIER: (alarmed) (almost whimpering) Yes…

PUNK: (grinning) Oh, man! I called in to talk to you a coupla weeks ago. I'm Tony. Don't you remember me?

_Still scared, Frasier tries hard to recall the conversation he had with Tony the caller. As he remembers, he gasps._

FRASIER: (even more alarmed than before) (very, very cautiously) So, how is your brother?

PUNK/TONY: He's out of the hospital but still won't speak to me.

FRASIER: Well, you did break his leg as I recall…

TONY: I told you, it was an accident.

FRASIER: As I said, your brother may see it differently since you drove away before he was completely out of your car…

_Ashley stands up with her purse in her hand. Frasier, being a gentleman, also stands up._

ASHLEY: (curtly) I'm going to the powder room.

FRASIER: (eyeing Tony) (desperate) Would you like me to escort you?

ASHLEY: (incredulously) EXCUSE ME?

FRASIER: Right…

_Frasier sits down as Ashley stomps away from his table. Camera jumps to the next scene. Frasier and Tony, now sitting side by side, are still at the same table several hours later. There are no other patrons at the restaurant because it is past the closing time. A busboy is sweeping the floor._

TONY: …I really loved that toy rifle, but my brother took it a day after Christmas and never gave it back to me…

_Tony starts crying on Frasier's shoulder. Frasier looks too dazed and overwhelmed to react. Another scene change._ _Interior of Café Nervosa. Frasier and Roz are at a small table talking._

FRASIER: I believe your last words on this matter were "You gotta trust me on this one." And yet, I somehow got ditched by my dream date before the entrée and got stuck with a man who looked like a thug from Godfather.

ROZ: It could've worked out if Rachel hadn't backed out at the last minute. Believe me, she's not a flake like Ashley. But Ashley was the only one who agreed to fill in 'cause she owed me one.

FRASIER: How do you manage to meet all these 'flaky' people? And how did a person like Ashley come to 'owe you one' in the first place?

ROZ: (mumbling) I knew her ex.

FRASIER: What?

ROZ: (defiantly) I slept with her ex when they were still married, okay?

FRASIER: (taken aback) (a beat or two) Did I miss something? You honestly think that's a favor for the wife of the cheating husband?

ROZ: It is when you can use it against your millionaire husband to nullify the pre-nup you signed.

FRASIER: Pre-nup?

ROZ: Yeah. She would have gotten only a shirt on her back and a few measly thousand a month if she had divorced her ex according to the pre-nup, but I agreed to talk to her divorce lawyer and provide all the evidence of our affair when the PI she'd hired contacted me, and she took him to the cleaner.

_Frasier simply shakes his head as if to shake off too much personal information._

FRASIER: Ashley wasn't the worst of it though—I believe she told you about her boyfriend showing up at the restaurant? Tony?

ROZ: Oh, yeah. She didn't tell me who it was, but she said he's not her boyfriend or anything. She went out with him only once or twice.

FRASIER: He certainly had a different opinion. On top of that, he turned out to be the guy who called in to talk about his anger management issues during our show a few weeks ago.

ROZ: Tony, did you say?

_Frasier nods. Roz pauses for a moment trying to recall the caller and his topic. As she remembers, her jaw drops._

ROZ: Oh, God! THAT Tony?

FRASIER: As you can imagine, the theme song from Godfather and the image of a severed horse's head kept going through my mind all night long!

ROZ: Hey, I'm really sorry, okay? But sometimes, you have to hit rock bottom before you can go up again. Trust me, Frasier.

FRASIER: Wish you hadn't said that.

ROZ: Huh?

FRASIER: Lately, whenever you say, "Trust me," something disastrous happens.

ROZ: Oh, come on, Frasier! You're not the kind of guy who believes the stuff like superstitions and omens. You'll be fine!

_Frasier's mobile phone rings as soon as Roz finishes talking. Frasier answers the phone._

FRASIER: Hello? (a beat) (coldly) Oh, hello, Lilith.

_Frasier gives Roz an icy stare._

ROZ: (mumbling) I stand corrected…

FRASIER: What? What's wrong with Frederick? (listening to Lilith for a while) Uh-huh.

ROZ: (standing up) (mostly to herself) If you excuse me, I'll go outside and bang my head against the wall repeatedly until I lose consciousness…

_Frasier is too preoccupied with the phone conversation and barely notices Roz is leaving._

FRASIER: Oh, okay, Roz. Have a good day.

_Roz leaves the café. Frasier continues his phone conversation._


	4. Chapter 4

**Even Psychiatrists Get The Blues**

_Frasier's condo. Marty is in his recliner watching TV. Eddie is on the sofa playing with one of the throw pillows. When the door opens and Frasier enters, Eddie jumps off the couch and jumps into Marty's lap._

MARTY: (turning off the TV set) Hey, where have you been, Frasier? It's gettin' late.

FRASIER: Hi, Dad. Sorry, I had a lot on my mind. I took a long walk to clear my head. I just lost the track of time.

MARTY: Tough day at work?

FRASIER: Yes. And Lilith called.

MARTY: (sincerely) Oh, I'm really sorry. (a beat) (alarmed) She's not in town, is she?

FRASIER: No, no. She called because Frederick has been acting up lately.

MARTY: Throwing tantrums, refusing to go to bed at night, things like that?

FRASIER: Oh, no. Nothing of the sort—just not being his usual self. This afternoon, Lilith asked him to put all his books back on the bookshelf…

MARTY: And he said, 'No'?

FRASIER: He did put the books back on the shelves, but he didn't sort them in an alphabetical order as he always does. When Lilith pointed that out, he said, "Who cares!" and walked out of the room.

_Marty is silent with a curious look on his face._

FRASIER: Dad? Are you all right? Dad?

MARTY: (shaking his head as if to clear his head) Sorry, I had some flashbacks from your childhood. Anyway, it's normal for a boy Freddie's age to act up every once in a while, you know? It's just a stage he's going through—that's all.

FRASIER: I'd like to think so, but according to Lilith, it all started about a couple of weeks ago when he heard from a neighbor's son that I no longer have my private practice and work as a radio psychiatrist instead.

MARTY: (not quite comprehending) So?

FRASIER: It's most likely that the neighbor's boy was repeating what his parents, Eric and Judith Zimmermann, who happen to be psychiatrists themselves, had said at home, but he told Frederick that I was a sell-out because I'm dispensing advice in a radio show, not in a clinical setting.

MARTY: (getting angry) What's wrong with being a radio psychiatrist? And why didn't Lilith tell Freddie not to judge a book by its cover? He's too young to be so snooty.

FRASIER: He's not being snooty, Dad. When I got this job at KACL, Lilith and I discussed and decided that we put off telling him about my new job because he is so proud that I am…was a clinical psychiatrist. We thought the news might be too much for Frederick to bear right after our divorce and my moving. You understand that, don't you?

MARTY: Yeah. Like you were so proud of your mother and her profession when you were a little boy…

FRASIER: (reading Marty's mind) Dad, don't ever think even for a second that we didn't appreciate you and your occupation. Both Niles and I knew you worked long hours to provide for us, and that the precinct is not an ideal place to take your kids for a visit.

MARTY: (somewhat mollified) So, maybe someday, Freddie will be able to cope with the fact that you no longer have a private practice.

FRASIER: (not very convincingly) Well, I hope so…

_Frasier's mobile phone rings. Frasier answers the call._

FRASIER: Hello. (a beat) Niles. What's wrong? You sound upset. (a few moments) Yes, of course.

_Frasier walks to the door and opens it. Niles, still on his mobile phone, walks in._

NILES: (on the phone) Thank you, Frasier.

FRASIER: (on the phone) You're welcome.

_Frasier and Niles hang up their phones simultaneously._

FRASIER: What's the matter, Niles?

_Niles sits down on the sofa heavily._

NILES: (sighing) Do you remember that I told you my symphony board appointment was unofficial?

_Both Frasier and Marty nod._

NILES: Well, now it's official: (a beat) I am no longer on the board.

_Frasier sits down by Niles._

FRASIER: Oh, Niles. I'm so sorry. I know the appointment meant a lot to you. What happened?

NILES: The business acquisition in Hong Kong by Richard McMillan's company fell through, so he won't have to relocate, and the board took him back.

_Niles can no longer hold back his tears and starts bawling. He collapses onto the throw pillow Eddie was playing with and buries his face in it._

NILES: (clutching the throw pillow) BWAHHH… Waaah…Aaahh… (lifting his face from the throw pillow) (grimacing) Ack, ack, ACK!

FRASIER: What's wrong, Niles?

MARTY: (alarmed) Sounds like he's having a heart attack or a stroke! Do something, Frasier! I'll call 911.

NILES: (still gagging) (sitting up) What did you do to this throw pillow, Frasier? It smells like Snausages! (taking a close look at the pillow) (horrified) And it's covered with Eddie's hair!!

_Niles jumps off the sofa and wipes his face with a handkerchief. When Frasier glares at Eddie, who is in Marty's lap casually observing Niles and Frasier, Eddie breaks off the eye contact and buries his head in the crook of Marty's arm._

NILES: (moving about agitatedly) (trying to remove imaginary dog hair on his face and clothes) AAAARRRRGGGHHH! I'm covered with dog hair! Get it off! Get it off! GET IT OFF MEEEEEE!!

_Frasier grabs Niles by the shoulders and shakes him a couple of times._

FRASIER: Pull yourself together, Niles!

NILES: (still babbling) Dog hair everywhere…

FRASIER: Niles! It's nothing that a lint remover and a splash of water on your face can't take care of. What you're feeling is displaced anger and frustration because you lost your appointment.

_Suddenly, Niles quiets down and stops fidgeting. _

NILES: (calmly) You're right, Frasier. I'm upset because (resumes bawling) I'm not a symphony board member any more!!

_Niles cries on Frasier's shoulder._

MARTY: (sarcastically) Nice going, Fras.

FRASIER: (as a retort) Acceptance is a step in psychological healing.

_Frasier pats Niles' back and sits him down on the sofa. He sits down by Niles._

FRASIER: (placing a hand on Niles' shoulder) Do you want to talk about it? You can stay here tonight if you'd like.

NILES: (wiping his tears) No, no. I'll be fine. Thanks, Frasier, but I must go home.

MARTY: You sure?

NILES: Yes. It's Maris' birthday…

FRASIER: Oh? (insinuatingly) I didn't know you're having a party tonight.

_Marty lets out a shrill, cynical laugh despite the situation._

NILES: You don't know much about my Maris, do you, Frasier? She's very sensitive about her age because she's older than I am. She doesn't celebrate her birthdays so as not to attract people's attention to her age.

FRASIER: (confused) Then why do you have to be home with her?

NILES: I must distract her from the fact that she's getting a year older today—otherwise, she gets depressed, and everyone around her will suffer as a consequence…

_Niles sighs and stands up slowly._

NILES: On that cheerful note, I really must be going. Thanks for being so supportive, Frasier, Dad. I'll be all right—eventually. Good night.

_Frasier and Marty mumble good-byes as Niles leaves._

FRASIER: (softly) Poor Niles… (covering his face with both hands) God, I feel really terribly about this whole thing!

MARTY: Oh, he'll get over it, Fras. Give him time.

FRASIER: It's not that, Dad. What I meant was…

MARTY: (questioningly) Yeah?

FRASIER: Deep down in the dark abyss of my soul, for a fraction of a second…I was glad that…Niles lost his appointment…

_Marty stares at Frasier._

FRASIER: (averting his eyes) Please don't judge me!

MARTY: I'm not judging you. It's called 'sibling rivalry,' by the way. Don't they teach anything in med school?

_This time, Frasier stares at Marty._

MARTY: Besides, you and Niles have been at it since you two were kids. Didn't you ever wonder why you guys got the same Christmas gifts when you were in school?

FRASIER: Well, maybe it crossed my mind…

MARTY: Your mother and I learned a lesson a long time ago, and a very expensive lesson at that. One year, Hester went to a conference in Europe and brought back a Fabergé egg for you and a pair of lederhosen and a Tyrolean hat for Niles. She thought you were getting too old for short pants, and Niles was too young to have a fragile trinket. But, NOOOO, you two had to have what the other had, so we had to order extra stuff. Remember that?

FRASIER: (a little embarrassed) Vaguely…

MARTY: Soon after, you shot up a few inches and split the pants, and Niles dropped his precious Fabergé and broke it.

FRASIER: It must have been tough raising Niles and me at the same time. Lilith and I have only one child but find it very challenging to raise a gifted boy like Frederick.

MARTY: As luck would have it, I put in long hours at the precinct, so Hester handled most of disciplining. I always felt guilty about that and said so shortly after Niles went off to college. And do you know what she said?

FRASIER: No. What did she say?

MARTY: She laughed and said, "Oh, it wasn't so hard. All I had to do was to push the right button." She goes, "When I wanted Frasier or Niles to fess up for something, all I had to do was to make him stand in a corner. He'd say, 'What'd I do?' And I'd say 'You know,' and look him squarely in the eye. And soon enough, he'd start psychoanalyzing himself, singing like a canary! The funniest part is, in addition to the shenanigans I'd suspected, the boys often confessed to the stuff I hadn't even known about."

_Marty began laughing recalling a happy moment from his past. After a while, Frasier joins in, chuckling._

FRASIER: (nostalgically) Mom was the best, wasn't she?

MARTY: (a bit misty-eyed) Yeah, you bet.

FRASIER: God, I miss her…

MARTY: You and me both.

FRASIER: I hope I'll be able to be as good a parent as you and Mom.

MARTY: I'm sure you will. After all, you learned from the best. Just don't sweat the small stuff.

_Frasier's mobile phone rings, and he answers._

FRASIER: Hello? (a beat) Oh, Lilith. What now? (a few more moments) What? Sure, put him on.

_Marty looks at Frasier questioningly. Frasier covers the phone's mouthpiece to speak to Marty briefly._

FRASIER: (to Marty) Frederick wants to talk to me. (uncovers the mouthpiece to resume a phone conversation) Hello, Frederick! (a beat or two) What? Whoa, whoa, slow down, Frederick. Some people can't even think that fast.

_Frasier listens for a while, occasionally uttering "Uh-huh," and "Is that right?"_

FRASIER: Well, that's great. I'm so glad you called me tonight, Frederick, but you should be in bed—it's past your bedtime. Why don't you call me back tomorrow? (a beat) I love you, son. (a beat) No, I love you more! (a beat) Okay, enough of this game. I know you're stalling. Now, off to bed, young man! (a beat) Good night. You too.

_Frasier hangs up the phone, smiling._

MARTY: What was that all about?

FRASIER: (giddy with joy) Remember the psychiatrist couple I told you about? The Zimmermanns?

MARTY: Sure, your old neighbors with a snobby kid.

FRASIER: They have relatives in Seattle, and they were in town for a visit last week. During the stay, the boy saw my face everywhere—bus sides, benches, billboard… He got this impression that I'm famous, I mean, really famous like a Hollywood star and said so to Frederick after the family returned to Boston.

_Frasier sees a disapproving look on Marty and adds hastily._

FRASIER: Of course, I'll tell Frederick that I'm not THAT famous when I talk to him tomorrow.

MARTY: (sternly) Yeah, you better.

FRASIER: But that's not the end of the story. One of the Zimmermanns' relatives spent years in therapy for various phobias and anxieties. According to the Zimmermann boy, at a family get-together, his Uncle Dennis told his parents that sometimes radio psychiatrists give the best advice for free.

_Marty looks at Frasier quizzically as his son smiles a goofy smile._

MARTY: Does that mean anything to you?

FRASIER: (still smiling) Yes. As a matter of fact, it does—a lot.

MARTY: (shrugging) Well then, I'm happy for you, son. You know, little ones are a lot tougher than they look—they can bounce right back from most of the curveballs life throws at you.

FRASIER: Yes, point well taken.

MARTY: I know you had a rough year, but don't try so hard to be the best father, son and psychiatrist all the time. You gotta take it easy once in a while—just be happy with who you are and where you are.

FRASIER: (mischievously) And who you are with?

MARTY: (grinning) Yeah, yeah. I know you'd rather be with a pretty young thing than an old goat like me.

FRASIER: I just hope that I'll be able to find someone who is wonderful inside and out, like Mom…

MARTY: A woman like your mother is worth waiting for, Fras. But then again, sometimes, the woman of your dream finds you first before you know she's the one.

FRASIER: (teasingly) You are full of advice tonight—are you after my job, Dad?

_Frasier's mobile phone rings again._

MARTY: Busy night.

FRASIER: (picking up the phone) Hello? (a beat) Oh, hi, Rachel!

_Frasier sneaks a peek at Marty, who is looking at him with mild curiosity._

FRASIER: (walking away from Marty towards the alcove to have some privacy) It's so nice to be able to hear from you at last. (a beat) No, no! No trouble at all.

_Frasier walks out of the camera range. Marty gets the hint and turns on TV. As he watches TV, the noise from the TV set drowns most of Frasier's voice. After a few moments, the camera cuts to Frasier, who sits by the sliding door that opens to the balcony._

FRASIER: (hanging up the phone) Well, well, well. I hate to admit, but you may have stolen my thunder, Dad. To quote one of your favorite sports analogies, you're batting a thousand tonight. How did you get to be so smart?

_No response from Marty._

FRASIER: Dad?

_Frasier stands up and walks back to the living room to see what Marty is doing and finds his father engrossed in an old show, The Honeymooners._

MARTY: (with Jackie Gleason's line in the show) (smiling) Baby, you're the greatest!

_Frasier silently and affectionately watches his father with a warm, content smile on his lips._

**EPILOGUE**

_Frasier and Niles, in tuxedo, come out of a concert hall with the rest of the audience, carrying their copies of the concert program. They are deep in discussion on, undoubtedly, the performance they have just heard when they pass by a street musician, who wears a big floppy hat, which obscures most of his face, and is playing the violin. Frasier and Niles seem not to notice him and keep going without stopping. After the Crane brothers are out of the camera range, Daphne enters the scene carrying a couple of shopping bags. She stops in front of the street musician, listens to the music, and when the performance ends, she applauds and drops a few bills in the violin case. The musician bows to thank her as she walks away. The musician pushes up the hat to reveal his face, and it is Joshua Bell!*_

*On January 12, 2008, Joshua Bell, dressed as a street musician, played classical pieces for 43 minutes at one of the Metro stations in the D.C. area as a cultural experiment conducted by the Washington Post. Bell, whose concert tickets go as high as $100 or more, earned about $32 during this experiment as more than a thousand morning commuters passed through the station. Except for a few individuals, the commuters never stopped to listen to the world-renowned violinist in disguise.


End file.
